Staying on the Road
by Running Amok at an Eatery
Summary: Seifer and Squall go to dinner, but never actually get there. A short bit of SxS.


**Staying on the Road**

  
  
Pairings: Seifer + Squall   
  
Author's Note: This is supposed to be an interlude in a bigger fic entitled "Otherside", focusing on Rinoa's part in a Seifer/Squall relationship, but I have doubts that it will ever fully form...so here's the interlude for you, without backstory or explanations. Sorry.   
  


* * *

  
  
_

Simple and clean is the way that you're making me feel tonight, it's hard to let it go.

_   
  


* * *

  
  
"I think she suspects something." The door clicked shut.   
  
"Class?   
  
"Canceled due to unexpected monster rampage," said Seifer with a smirk. "Took down an instructor and four foolhardy cadets. It was a measley T-rex on Haste and Berserk. Pushover compared to--"   
  
"Did you take care of it?"   
  
"I'm flattered you think me qualified; the administration didn't think so. But naw. They called in Selphie. She took it down in two minutes flat."   
  
"I'm surprised you didn't go charging in anyway. Level?"   
  
"It was...eighty-six, I think. The Training Center administration is getting more and more lax with their tag updates. Today's T-rex hadn't been evaluated for six months. It mighta gotten to a hundred already."   
  
"I see. Selphie's getting out of shape, then. I'll assign her to something strenuous when I can. Maybe the one in Galbadia."   
  
"Are you kidding me? Galbadian soldiers on *steriods* are still weaklings!"   
  
"They've gotten better."   
  
"I really doubt that. Hey, what's that?"   
  
"Don't know. Something Rinoa brought."   
  
Seifer shook out the bag's contents. Sandwich and salad. "Squall, how old is this?"   
  
"About a day."   
  
"Gross," Seifer said of the wilting salad. He crossed the room and threw it down the garbage chute. He unsealed the sandwich and took a bite. "Do you even eat anymore?"   
  
"Yes. I ate this morning."   
  
"This morning? Do you know what time it is? It's eighteen thirty, dimwit."   
  
"So it is."   
  
"You'll kill yourself like that. One can not live on paperwork alone, _Commander_."   
  
Papers rustled. Seifer shifted restlessly and munched on Squall's unwanted sandwich. "That's it. We--that's you and me--are going to go out to dinner, and we're going to do it now. Screw everything. The world won't fall out of orbit if you leave you desk for an hour."   
  
"Somehow I doubt it'll be 'just an hour' when you say it like that. I can't. It's important."   
  
"How important?"   
  
Silence. Squall thunked his seal down on a paper with force. The desk reverberated with the impact.   
  
"Is Garden going to get bombed? Is war going to break out? Is it going to be the end of mankind as we know it if you don't file those damn papers? ...I thought not. Now come on. We have to put some meat on them skinny bones."   
  
"You're irritating."   
  
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. I'm a bastard, blah blah blah. Am I going to have to resort to force?"   
  
Squall stood and pushed his chair back, stretching a little. "Like you could. Fine. Let's go."   
  
"Hell yeah, I could! You're just giving in now because you know I could bodily drag you out of here, you pipsqueak."   
  
"You wouldn't give up anyway, would you?"   
  
"No, of course not. It's my duty as an inhabitant of Garden to take care of my esteemed Commander however possible." Seifer mockingly gave a low bow. "Now get yer ass in gear. I know this place in Balamb..."   
  
"That's fine."   
  
"Hey, wanna invite Rin? She's probably hanging around here somewhere."   
  
Squall glared at Seifer pointedly. "Don't you dare."   
  
Seifer shrugged. He was wearing a black turtleneck sweater. It made him look...mature. His physical presence was a bit less, but it gave him a more solid feel. "Like I was saying, I think she knows something."   
  
"What, finally?" said Squall with a touch of real sarcasm as the two boarded the lift. "What is that you think she knows?"   
  
"Well, not about us, exactly," answered Seifer as he pushed a button. "She knows that there's something wrong...that you aren't happy with her."   
  
Squall was silent; he radiated indifference. Seifer pressed on with uncharacteristic solemnity.   
  
"Maybe you should tell her? She's concerned and you're angry. Is there even a reason to keep up the front?"   
  
"Not really. It's just an annoyance. She's going to put up a fuss."   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"I'll do it when the right time comes." That was the closest Squall could approximate to reassuring, which was rather close. He didn't say one thing and do another, so Seifer was satisfied. The two strode out the main entrance together, companiably. The gatekeeper immediately released the lock upon seeing Squall, hurriedly as if he feared the Commander's wrath for opening the gate a few seconds too late. Sometimes Seifer wasn't sure what people saw when they looked at Squall--boy, leader, Commander?--for they'd grown up together, and while he knew that his rival turned friend turned...something else...was incredibly strong in many ways, he didn't feel like Squall was like a vengeful god from the legends of old or anything of the like. The entire Garden housed trained mercenaries, yet it was only Squall who drew such worshipful fear from the people he passed. Seifer got his own share of fear, but it was of a different sort. When Seifer looked at Squall, he saw Squall, nothing more or less. He was at a loss how anybody could see anything different. But perhaps it was because most didn't have such close proximity to the young indomitable commander, and that was forgivable. Squall still didn't like socializing.   
  
Seifer knew him to be many things--a little boy who never wanted to do anything but stand staring off into the distance for someone who would never come for him, a sulky preteen who was no less determined to draw blood despite his clumsiness, a young man on the boundary between childhood and adulthood who had done a piss poor job of convincing himself that he needed no one--but he didn't hold the world in his hand. Neither did Seifer. It made them the same, but they were vastly different. It was their similarities that drew them together and their differences that bound them.   
  
They stayed on the road because neither had brought his gunblade--curious, since they rarely thought to leave the weapons behind. But tonight, whether by accident or design, both were unarmed. Seifer put his ungloved hands in his pockets, his rolled up sleeves allowing his forearms to feel diminishing rays and soak up the cold. The sun was setting, washing the little seaside town of Balamb in a cover of crystalline amber-red.   
  
For a while they walked in silence in the filtered daylight, their steps alluding to metal and leather and military dicipline. Squall still wore his leather ensemble complete with chains and belts, and when he passed people would say, "My, but isn't he stylish, I can tell he's a hero just by looking at him." The truth was that they'd bored his face into their memories from blurry newspaper photos and the occasional worldwide broadcast. Seifer hadn't put away his trenchcoat completely, but he no longer felt a need to wear it everywhere. After...things...he didn't really care about being flashy, or about being remembered for this or that. Anything he did with his life would pale in comparison to his involvement in the war, which was rather depressing and a tad exhilirating. And sometimes when Squall was feeling verbose, he would tell Seifer that he liked the newly toned-down look, so Seifer kept it. It wasn't a big deal.   
  
It wasn't long before they entered the town. There weren't many people milling about, and that was good. It gave the place the feel of peace, of uncaring quiet. Squall's step was unhurried, evidently belying his words of before, "_I can't, it's important._" It was no secret that he didn't like his job, at least not to Seifer, but he rationalized it that nobody else was going to do it so he had to. Was duty-bound to. Squall was a little obstinate like that--Seifer figured that he could have been firm on saying no to Cid and lived the life of an _ordinary_ mercenary.   
  
"Let's go fishing here, before Garden moves," said Seifer for no real reason. He didn't desperately want to, but he thought it a valid suggestion. Fishing was calming and didn't require skill. So what if the fish didn't want to bite? He scowled.   
  
"Ah. Sometime."   
  
"What are you thinking about?"   
  
"Nothing important. Garden affairs."   
  
"Care to share? I live there too, you know."   
  
Squall gave him a look, one that said, "_Don't bother._"   
  
Seifer nodded. "Just wondering." Then he mulled for a moment, and said, "Let's just say I pass the coming exam. It's in, what, a week? I'll be assigned a little while after that, and then who will make you eat?"   
  
Squall shrugged. "My survival instinct?"   
  
Seifer sighed theatrically. "Which will kick in...when? I fail to see when it's worked for you before. You take horrible care of yourself."   
  
Squall reached over and touched Seifer's hand. Before the blond cadet could react, palm met palm and their fingers were entwined, leather against warm skin. The fading rays picked highlights from Squall's brown hair and set it aglow.   
  
The youth smiled, softly, his blue-gray eyes transcluent. "Obviously."   
  


* * *

-- End   
  



End file.
